Missing Scene
by Tinka1
Summary: scenes from the Anne books that should be there.......but are not! so i wrote them.
1. Missing Scene .01

Premise Anne Shirley has just accepted Gilbert's proposal. How does she break the news to Marilla?  
  
  
  
1.1 Missing Scene  
  
The old cedar wood clock ticked in slow beats. At dinner it used to tick in perfect harmony with Anne's thoughts. But tonight, her thoughts were racing to quickly for Anne to single any one of them out. Thoughts mixed with flurries of emotion, with lips and body tingling as if she were a firefly. Her essence lit up, like a beacon, which could not nor would not ever be turned off. Her mind was set away from the little kitchen she sat in. at.  
  
"You were home late, I didn't here you come in." Marilla motioned for the chair, and took comfort in its seat. The burrowing of her already noticeable forehead lines had deepened, a sign of concern and worry. The occupant who entered stared at her most peculiarly. Never had she been so silent, and was quite strange to find Anne ever so silent. Especially at dinner, there would be some tale to regal in or something to laugh  
  
"I'm sorry if I worried you Marilla, just tonight was a night that beckoned me fourth into its domes of beauty"  
  
"Worried child? Over you, why I don't know the meaning of that very word when you are concerned." Anne laughed dismally, her mind clearly set in another world. Her eyes drifted down to Anne's hands, as they clutched her knife and fork. Nothing on her plate had been touched, and she had been there at least fifteen minutes.  
  
"child what is wrong with you, nothing on your plate has been touched. Are you ill."  
  
A sigh escaped from her still lips, and the corners of Anne's mouth turned up into a smile. "Far from ill, though you may call what I have an illness. Even if it makes me scandalously happy-oh Marilla." Just then there was a knock on the front door, and with a groan Marilla went to stand up.  
  
"Who could be calling at this time, it is nine o'clock for heavens sake."  
  
But before Marilla could get up and finish her complaint, Anne had shot up announcing that she would get it. The caller was unmistakable, and Marilla moved to the doorway to find Gilbert standing there on Green Gables verandah. Marilla stared with curiosity, nothing had been said except a good evening. Now they just stood there staring, like two people in-no it could not be. Had Anne and Gilbert talked that afternoon? And has she accepted? No, no thought Marilla. Anne would have run home, and spilled out her news without need.  
  
"I'm sorry to drop by so late, Anne. But you forgot your hat when you left."  
  
"seems like another pitiful excuse to come and see me, don't you think? What use for a hat do I have at nine o'clock at night? Which I might add, earned a stern comment from Marilla when she heard you knock."  
  
"I am just trying to be a gentlemen, but if this is the treatment for doing so. Then perhaps I should leave."  
  
Perhaps Marilla was wrong. She could feel the beginnings of a quarrel beginning to take form, and all she wanted was for these two to stop this nonsense and get married.  
  
"Oh Anne," came the voice of Marilla. "Why can't you just thank the young boy for being a gentlemen?" Marilla came from her hiding, moving towards the door. She didn't see the informed look Gilbert gave Anne, then solemnly turning a dejected face to Marilla.  
  
"Tis all right Miss. Cuthbert, I am used to this treatment." He winked at Anne, who in turn gave him a resentful look.  
  
"Would you like to come in, and have a spot of tea?"  
  
"No Thankyou Miss. Cuthbert, I must get home. I fear father may be wondering where I am."  
  
"Yes, yes of course. Good night Gilbert, and Thankyou for the hat, on behalf of Queen Anne here." Gilbert laughed, smiling admiringly at his Queen Anne.  
  
"Since you are not fond on how I treat you, then perhaps you would not like it if I walked you to the end of the road?" asked Anne smugly as Marilla moved back towards the kitchen but stopped back in her hiding place in the door frame, listening intently. She hated to snoop, especially where Anne was concerned. But she had to know.  
  
"My Queen Anne." he began in a low voice but it turned in a whisper as he leaned in whispering into Anne's ear. A sharp giggle was heard, then the door closed and Marilla found no trace of them there. She whisked her way to the drawing room window, and pulled the curtains back and was quickly drawn into smile when she saw Gilbert taking Anne's hand as they moved down the garden path. They were laughing, and smiling at one another. It was true, it had to be. But they had been close, always close. And people always mistook them as married, lovers or courting one another. They lingered slowly, the moonlight placing a path of silver along the road. Gilbert and Anne stopped short, theie hands still intertwined. Marilla gasped, as Anne leaned forward kissing Mr. Blythe with affection, and his own reaction confirmed Marilla's hopes and dreams.  
  
The moon beams highlighted their love, and this day signified it as Anne's happiness as well as Marilla's. After years of flirting, fighting and repression Anne had now woken up into a dream of utter happiness. Everything was perfect, everything was how it should be.  
  
They were gone for half of an hour, lingering in each others company. Marilla moving about the kitchen, placing things away. Burst of laughter would erupt from her mouth as she thought about the thought of her Anne and Mr. Blythe. But how long will they keep this secret? Or how long have they been keeping this secret? Would Anne say something, or would she walk upstairs without a word or phrase to usher her loved ones into her world of engagement.  
  
Her thoughts had been so rigid that she did not hear Anne walk into the kitchen. There was a brief pause, but Marilla found words. Not ones that fit the occasion, and she kicked herself for saying them at such a moment. "I sincerely hope you thanked him for returning your hat."  
  
"Yes, yes I did Marilla." Anne replied breathlessly.  
  
"I am glad to hear young lady." Marilla glanced down at her hands, there was no glittering silver ring, nor diamond. But there was a ring, nor was it made of any metal, but of woven grass with a small white flower intricately placed within it. Words were not needed. The two women shared a smile, followed by a long embrace.  
  
They both knew, but Anne said it in a whisper. "-- I'm getting married."  
  
2 THE END 


	2. Missing Scene .02

Missing Scene .02  
  
Authors note: I this takes place before chapter XIX in Anne of Avonlea.  
  
  
  
The Green Gables front door was rapped by a dark haired, hazel eyed boy; many of the residents of older Avonlea believed him to be a boy. Though this twenty year old thought otherwise. He stood on the old verandah gazing about without a thought or care as the sound of footsteps drew nearer to the white wooden door.  
  
"Good morning Gilbert, what brings you here on a day like this?" Gilbert held up a worn book with a burgundy cover. The one who greeted him realized exactly what it was and snatched it from his hands immediately. "Oh I forgot I lent that too you. Here I was just yesterday tearing my room up for it and the bookcase down stairs!" the girl hugged it to her body like an old friend.  
  
"Then I hope Marilla was not upset that her house was turned upside down for a book."  
  
"No more than usual," said Anne with hearty laugh. "I hope you enjoyed it."  
  
"Yes I did immensely."  
  
"I knew you would Gil."  
  
"So….what are you doing here on a day like this?"  
  
Anne stepped aside, her casual invitation of inviting people inside. "Come inside, I will show you." He did so, closing the door behind him. "I was in my room sorting though my old box of odds and ends and I came across these old stories." Anne, excitedly, had already found herself in the kitchen. "There must be millions here." That there were, or so it seemed. Spread across the table were sheets of paper with other odds and ends hauled up from Anne's childhood.  
  
Gilbert took a seat, and began picking up and looking over the different names of the stories. "How foolish some of these are. Fairies. Goblins. Witches. Wizards. Old haunted castles. Enchanted forests. Girls with magical golden voices that could raise the dead," Anne ended with a sigh and looked over the different stories in her hands. Gilbert looked up at Anne, and a smiled crossed his lips. Unlike the schoolmarm during the week, her hair was down, the two front sections were pulled behind in a crooked plait. The ends of her hair coiled and curled. If Gilbert had called on any of the other Avonlea girls they would not present themselves in such a way. But there was something too her relaxed look, that was unlike any other Avonlea girl. The faded blue dress which was obviously not her Sunday best. Sleeves were rolled up. And all seven freckles were present. Anne looked up to find him staring, and apologized for looking a mess. "I got home from church…and I just couldn't be in those clothes any longer. As much as I love and adore dressing up and looking my best, there is something comforting about being in my homely dresses."  
  
Gilbert shrugged, not caring. Anne was a chum after all. She did not care for him in that way, nor him for her. "May I borrow one of these stories if I have your permission. My junior boys and girls who do not have to sit the History test I set the older students, won't have anything to do. But I think perhaps you have inspired me with an idea."  
  
~~***~~  
  
"Junior class…pay attention please." The whispers, which flooded the White Sands school hall, faded as Mr. Blythe called them to his attention. "As you may know the senior students have a History test set for after dinner. Since we can not have too much commotion as they need to concentrate very hard." Gilbert caught a few of the older children, namely boys, snickering over his sarcastic comment. He gave them an imposing look and their eyes flew to their books. "So I have an activity. How would you like to write a creative story?" The younger ones cheered and the older ones moaned about how Mr. Blythe was unfair. "shhhh, what did I say about commotion huh? A friend of mine lent me a story she wrote when she was not so much older than you, Perhaps it will give you some inspiration? So crowd around the front and I will read it to you."  
  
The children followed his friendly orders, coming to the front of the class. Gilbert sat on the raised platform with some of the students sitting beside him. While others sat on the floor infront. With all of them comfortable and silent, he began to read Anne's story. Occasionally looking up at his students he was delighted to see them with their mouths open, eyes wide hanging on every word. Their mothers would have be appalled. But seeing children intrigued or interested enthused him.  
  
"That was wonderful sir!" concluded a young girl with a heavy sigh.  
  
"Who wrote it sir? A real writer?" asked another.  
  
"Yes a real writer…but not a published one. She is the school teacher over in Avonlea."  
  
A boy of no more than seven, with blonde hair and pants with holes in them jumped in stating "Miss Shirley is her name right Mr. Blythe?"  
  
Gilbert nodded "Yes it is little Thom and your cousins go to school in Avonlea?"  
  
"Yes Sir – they say that some of the Avonlea folk reckon'd your in love with Miss. Shirley!" A girl whom was nicknamed Piggy elbowed him to be quite. He ignored her jab and the stares of others and finished what he was saying. "Perhaps she loves you too. There is an awful lot of lovey dovey stuff in that there story and that's why you are showing it off!!"  
  
Gilbert who felt like a schoolboy all of a sudden, just sat there staring at the seven year old. "You're an outspoken lad Thom!" Gilbert finally said with a hearty laugh. "Why did you say such a thing?"  
  
"I…I don't know. Harris Brown likes showing off Mary Kays things. And they are in love, or that is what Mackie Bonser says."  
  
Gilbert stood up, placing the story on his desk. "I think perhaps it is time for dinner and for you Thom to put such foolish thoughts out of your head and filling your head with ideas for your story!"  
  
~~***~~  
  
Gilbert sat on the step of the schoolhouse, keeping watch over the children. It was a fine afternoon, and the children were commencing in a game of cricket in the May afternoon. The older children ordinarily asked for him to join in their game, and he did so most of the time. He got on well with the older boys – but today he didn't quite feel old. He didn't feel there, is what he thought. His body was physically there sitting, silently rolling an apple in his hands. He couldn't understand why young Thomas McKlinen's comment had made such an impact on him. He didn't love Anne. Once, in old Avonlea school days he had a crush on the elusive Anne whom he sought to be her friend. Now they were friends. There was no crush now, nor any love for Anne. If any it was from the purest of friendship. Nothing more.  
  
She was not like any other Avonlea girls. The only girl going to Redmond from this area. Anne worked her way through life, her head held high no matter what. She had a thirst for knowledge. The debates they would have over books, philosophies, religion, and politics. They were always bickering. She was indeed one of his best chums. There were no Avonlea girls he could have such discussion with. If he ever did their reply was "Um…" while Anne would start throwing out notions and ideas. Her eyes would obtain that passionate look. She was stubborn. And how she aggravated him at times.  
  
Charlie Sloane had openly admitted that he himself cared for Anne and thought her beautiful. Anne had dropped hints to Gil of how Charlie was always insistent on walking her home and how it aggravated her. She said once, "I know he is a good friend of yours Gil, but I can not stand him at times. He is nice and his intentions are good – but I wish he had no intentions of me." He merely laughed over it later, and knew Charlie would be devastated had he known so, he kept it to himself.  
  
She did have her spats of anger, but she was caring of everything and everyone around her. She saw good in everyone. She saw beauty in everything. Anne brought beauty to everything. Not only was her way beautiful. He always enjoyed going on those long walks, wandering the forests. Lying beneath the trees and amongst the ferns. Gazing upon Anne as she closed her eyes. If he was lucky she would sometimes forget he was there and hum a sweet song to herself. How she made his heartbeat quicken when she was near. The hair that she loathed, but he loved…  
  
"I love her."  
  
The apple had rolled from his hands without him noticing. Everything ceased to exist. All that he could hear was his heart beating quicker and louder by the minute, and the continued sentence 'I love her' playing like a record through his mind.  
  
Was this old? This feeling? Had he always loved her? Perhaps he never did grow out of the crush, it only grew once they became friends. Gilbert admired her, and now that admiration had grown into full bloomed love. At that moment, something was lost but something was gained.  
  
"I love her – I love Anne."  
  
  
  
~~***~~  
  
A week had passed, and Gilbert had managed to avoid Anne. How he wished it was winter so he could board at White Sands. Perhaps if he stayed away he would grow out of it. No matter how much he continued to avoid her during the week and thinking up wild schemes to vanish from Avonlea, Anne would never leave his mind. His mind he could not get rid of, nor memories of her.  
  
Gilbert who was sprawled face down on his bed heard the knock on the door. He growled, muttering various words under his breath wishing for them to go away.  
  
"Anne!" answered Gilbert in alarm. "What are you doing – here?"  
  
"Do you or do you not know what day this is?" Gilbert stood there, like a dumb muddled schoolboy. "Friday afternoon? Redmond – studies"  
  
In all the avoiding Anne and the rest of society, he had forgotten their weekly studies. And picking Anne up. How he wanted to slam his head against the door or vanish. But he opted for an apology.  
  
"Oh Anne I'm so sorry. I don't…I forgot. I'm so sorry. Please don't me mad at me. Its been a hectic week." Gilbert ended with a sigh, gazing over Anne. "Besides, it seemed you got yourself lost in the forest with the fairies and they adorned you in flowers" Without thinking Gilbert let his fingers graze across her cheek to take from her hair one of the flowers. Realizing immediately what he had done, his hand fell down to his side. He hopped Anne saw nothing in it – and begun desperate pleas for the earth to open up and suck him under were becoming more frequent by the second.  
  
"I should be angry at you, Gilbert Blythe. But once I entered the forest I couldn't be. I just gave myself to the forest and it gave itself to me. I am glad you had a memory lapse, because I was reminded of the forests beauty on dreary Friday afternoons. The flowers were splendid. Wild spirits growing wherever they pleased."  
  
"So…are you mad?"  
  
"No, no, Are you well Gil, you seem anxious and nervous. I am not mad at you if that is why you are nervous. I do not have a slate in my arms, only books which I honestly plan to study with and not throw over your head!"  
  
  
  
THE END 


	3. Missing Scene .03

Authors note: Hmmmm. Yeah, so I was amussed that Gilbert didn't have any siblinings. So I made one up by the name of Thom. Ages and stuff may be jumbled up or out of order….if so please tell me! It is set the day before Fred and Diana's wedding. Please tell me if I have something wrong – because I have a voice at the back of my head saying something has been stuffed up! (  
  
  
  
Missing scene .03  
  
  
  
"Its so good to have you home! Oh my dear son – I Have missed you, missed you so much!" Cried Mrs. Blythe. Her small body hugged her son of twenty nine into her arms, cooing her relief to have him back. "Oh your father will be pleased to see you – you will stay to see him won't you Thom? He will be glad too see you, he does miss you as much as myself and Gilbert to." His mothers pleas were answered with mixed emotion. He removed himself from her arms, and turned his attention to the kitchen window.  
  
"Is Gilbert about?"  
  
"I think he is outside mopping at the woodpile." Mrs. Blythe did not push on the subject of her husband and her son, Thom. Her pleas, no matter how frequent, were useless.  
  
"mopping?"  
  
"Much has happened since you have left."  
  
Thom wandered from the house, under his mothers eye, until she lost him beyond the pines of the first gate. He followed the sound of the old axe hitting the worn stump. Many nights he had spent his afternoons before winter began chopping wood, ready to stack for the cold nights. The wood pile sat behind the woodshed. Sure enough was Gilbert, Thom's younger brother. It had been six years since he had seen him, he was but eighteen. It was a brief meeting, he had come home intending to work things out. But things went in the other direction, and he left, again. Vowing never to come back. However the clannish nature drew him back, and here he was studying the young boy whom he once was had vanished. Thom almost let out a laugh when he saw how tall his baby brother was! And how grown up he was. His hair was darker, and his skin was darker. It was the two of the three physical differences they had. Thom had blonde hair and a fairer complexion to that of Gilbert. He also had dark brown eyes, and not the hazel eyes. He did however obtain the stubbornness that the male Blythes all obtained which perhaps was the reason of so many fights between the two. And also his sudden departure from home.  
  
Gilbert was obviously concentrating hard, his entire attention was on how hard he hit the wood. He grabbed the wood, placed it on the stump, raised the axe and hit the wood with such anger. Such angst. What could be troubling Gilbert? The brother who would always be laughing? A smile on his face?  
  
"Your doing it all wrong Gilbert, you only need to hit the block of wood and not split the stump underneath!"  
  
Gilbert looked in the direction of the voice, and with delight saw his brother walking over hands resting deep in his trouser pockets. "Thom! When did you get here?" Gilbert shook his hand, a clear smile on his face.  
  
"About an hour ago, I walked form the station. Thought I would give ol' mother a bit of surprise."  
  
"How long you here for? How was your journey?"  
  
"I'm here for as long as I can, and my journey was good. Clara is at home with the children –"  
  
"Dad is going to think you are here for money."  
  
"Why do you think I'm here?"  
  
"Clara – mother perhaps. There the only two that could get you here."  
  
Thom scoffed and took Gilbert under his arm. "What? You don't think I came to see my baby brother?" he begun ruffling Gilbert hair while the victim was yelling for him to stop it. "huh? What give? Stop it? This isn't Gilbert. Gilbert would have me thrown on the ground and trying to break my ribs!" Thom let go of Gilbert. "So what is wrong with you? Mother said you were down here mopping."  
  
Gilbert took his shirt from ground, next to the stump and patted the perspiration from his face and neck. "Mopping?"  
  
"I wouldn't call it mopping after seeing you hit those piece of wood. You were being pretty brutal – that wood didn't do anything to you." Gilbert looked at him from the corner of his eyes. "Is it a girl?"  
  
"A girl? A girl?!" Gilbert took a piece of wood and placed it onto the stump, slamming the axe onto it. "For centuries it has always been girls – women. Disturbing our minds, casting spells over our hearts. I crawl away home and she is here." He pointed to his head and then his heart "And here." He took another piece of wood and placed it onto the stump. "And out there," bang again on the wood. "—around Avonlea. At the postoffice. At the general store. Walking along the road. Next year she will be at Redmond again. She is killing me, literally, driving me insane. If you – if you hadn't have run off. You would have gone with father to Alberta. I would have stayed at school and finished by the time she cam to Avonlea. And I – I wouldn't be going through this."  
  
Thom splurted out, "Blaming me? You can't blame me."  
  
"If you could even understand, if this was you in my shoes, you would blame me." Gilbert sighed, and took comfort on the stump leaning the axe against it. "forget it, forget it. Lets here about you? What have you been up too? Your letters only come every three times a year that…"  
  
Thom intercepted quickly, knowing too well that Gilbert was changing the subject. "Is she beautiful?" Gilbert gave no verbal answer, only nodded. "Do you love her?"  
  
"Yes – yes I do. But she loves someone else, another man who has more prestige, more wealth, and can write sonnets."  
  
"Does she know? Does she know that you love her?"  
  
He sighed, "Yes. I confessed all. Asked her to be my wife – asked her to wait – asked her if she could ever care for me in that way."  
  
"—and?"  
  
"And would I be standing here, mopping, as mother calls it? I would be over at Green Gables.." Thom immediately looked up, knowing whom his brothers heart was with. "…with her, talking to her, holding her hand – and even kiss her. Oh to kiss her lips. We can barely stand in the same room, one hundred people between us. Her on one side myself on the other, and, and there is still awkwardness."  
  
"Anne of Green Gables? Were you not her sworn enemy? At least you were when I was here last. You were eighteen and she was fifteen – you hated her with a passion."  
  
"I only ever hated her because I couldn't be her friend. I was like a baby when he doesn't get what he wants so I hated her. But – but she swallowed her pride and we became the best of friends. I swear she was my best friend, better than moody or Charlie ever was. Till I ruined it all. I'm such a fool!"  
  
Thom looked confused "If you were such good chums then – I don't see why she didn't agree to be your wife."  
  
"Anne – Anne is a dreamer. A beautiful dreamer. She has an ideal about everything. Her house of dreams is a Spanish castle, with no doubt a prince there for her. As she began to paint that castle I began too see myself there. But as time wound on I imagined us living in some town, in a house with a cat and dog, the footsteps of friends and her! But bloody Royal Gardiner…"  
  
  
  
"Royal? What -- excuse me -- what kind of name is that?" asked Thom in between spouts of laughter.  
  
Gilbert saw the humor in it, "Sounds European. I've seen a great many odd names at the hospital I study at – but nothing as odd as Royal. It suits him though, he is a sissy. I could beat him down with one fist. He would probably go to his mother and cry!" ended Gilbert with a laugh.  
  
There laughter drowned away and the original mood of the conversation fell over them. Thom looked over at his brother, who had his head resting on his hands sighing.  
  
"I see her tomorrow you know?" Said Gilbert. "Diana and Fred are getting married tomorrow. I am the best man and Anne is to be the maid of honor." Never in all of Thoms life had he seen anyone as in love as his brother was, and, for a split second he hated him for it. He was glad Anne had not said yes, for, if they were to get married it would be too rich of a love affair. One which he would envy and wish his own marriage was like that. Thom could not inflict his own martial problems onto his brother who was already in the depths of sadness.  
  
"'So wags the world away'" quoted Thom.  
  
"huh?" queried Gilbert.  
  
"It's the only damn thing I remember from school. I don't know what it means. But you are the smart one Gilbert. You figure it out."  
  
"What do you think it means?"  
  
"Truthfully? To forget all the world and persist in what you believe in. If something has gone horribly bloody wrong – than fate will answer to it." He snorted. "sounds like a load of bullocks eh?"  
  
Gilbert only nodded and began to say "no – no. Its…."  
  
"Hope?"  
  
1 The End 


	4. Missing Scene .04

"Susan – susan?"  
  
Gilbert stood in the door frame, looking about the foyer for a face to greet him or a voice to hear. But he heard nothing. The door was open, a clear sign that someone would be about.  
  
"Anne-girl? Are you about?"  
  
There was still no sound, nor a face as he weaved in and out of rooms and hallways. Anne's cross stitch was sitting on the easy lounge in his office, the door was wide open. Glancing in the direction of the kitchen his brown eyes caught sight of the telephone reciever as it hung from its resting place. Nobody would had left it hanging in such a manner. Unless –  
  
As fear rushed over him, he yelled for his wife hoping that she would be somewher ein the house. Hoping she would be there to say that it must have fallen off its hook, due to excitement.  
  
But excitement there was none. In its place Gilbert found his wife sitting on the bench that sat outside their room, her head buried in her hands. At her feet a piece of paper, in which Gilbert feared was really there.  
  
He wanted to scream her name too look his way, to laugh and tell him the wounderful news. Instead he rushed to his wife, falling at her feet. With need to see his wifes face, Gilbert pulled her hands from her face.  
  
"Anne – oh Anne please. Please." He pleaded, but she shook her head. Her hand reached ou to pick up the piece of paper, but she failed. Gilbert took the paper, reading over it.  
  
"I was sitting, waiting for you – and, and the phone rang. The man…Mr….he told me to come. He said there was a telegram for a Mr. Blythe."  
  
Gilbert read over it again and again, feeling a sudden tightening around his throat. "Why?" he demanded. "Why another child, not another child Anne. Not my son!"  
  
He dropped his head onto Annes lap, demanding to know why. But she gave no answer, and continued crying.  
  
"I ran so quickly Gil, I ran. I thought it was good news. And I refused to open it before I came home. I wanted to tell you – I wanted to tell you that our boys were coming home."  
  
Gilbert looked up, trying to find something in Annes face that would make everything better. Everything had lost its lusture, except her touch. It seemed to be the only thing still alive – the only thing keeping his heart beating. She sank down to the floor, and Gilbert found himself pulling her close. This is not what he wanted when he came home. His first thoughts were too whisk Anne to the bedroom, and take advantage of their time alone. 


End file.
